Chapter 4
PIPER
“Beau!”
Gavin ran after our pit-bull mix that came bounding to the door.
He jumped up and licked my son’s face as Gavin threw his arms around our dog’s neck.
He was thumping his back leg like he always did when he had to go to the bathroom and I furrowed my brow.
I had a doggy door to our fenced-in backyard put in for a reason.
But it didn’t matter. If he wanted me to take him outside, then he wouldn't stop thumping and baying until I took him.
“Wanna go on a walk, boy? Hmm?” I asked.
“Can I come?” Gavin asked.
“Of course, you can, crazy. You’re not going to stay here by yourself. Let me go find his leash,” I said.
My first week at the hospital had been grueling.
Long. Filled with more accidents in a small town than I could’ve ever imagined.
Why on earth people did the fucking things they did were beyond me.
I understood some accidents. A broken leg because someone didn’t release a parachute on time.
Checking for a concussion because someone took a nosedive into a kitchen counter after stepping into a puddle of water.
But having to pick glass out of someone’s asshole because they shoved a lightbulb up there on a drunken dare?
Seriously?
“Come on, Beau,” I said as I attached his leash to his collar. “Let’s take you for a walk.”
“Can I do it!? Can I do it, Mommy!?”
“Sure, you can. But be really careful, okay? Beau’s very strong,” I said.
“But I’m stronger,” he said.
“That you are,” I said as I ruffled his hair. “That you are, sweet boy.”
Watching his determined face as he tried to control Beau only served to make him look more like Rock.
Did he have anything about me in him at all?
He had my wild side. But then again, Rock had been wild, too.
There were times where I thought he had my legs, until he shot up another two inches.
Gavin’s shoulders were broad like his fathers, and they bled into a slim waist, like his father’s.
And every time his legs got longer, I couldn't help but remember all of the kisses I peppered along Rock’s thighs.
Particularly, his legs.
The older Gavin got, the less like me he became. Sometimes, I saw myself in his smile. Or in the way he crinkled his nose whenever a bad smell hit his nostrils. But that was it. Everything else was him.
Of course, the universe would be that cruel.
“Ew! Beau! No,” Gavin said.
He yanked on the leash as I reached down and grabbed his hand.
“No, no, no, sweet boy. We don’t do that to animals. That hurts them. Do you want to be hurt like that?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Then don’t do it to Beau, okay? Now, what’s he-?”
I looked over and saw Beau licking up another dog’s damn poop and I grabbed the leash from Gavin.
“No, Beau,” I said as I tugged him away. “Bad boy.”
Gavin placed his hand over his mouth and giggled, and the sweet sound reminded me of something of mine he did possess.
I was a giggler, and so was my son.
“That was funny,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m sure you thought so,” I said as I eyed him playfully. “When you see him eating poop, just tug him away. Don’t pull repeatedly, just keep walking. He’ll follow.”
“Unless I eat my poop.”
“What?” I asked. “No. You don’t eat poop, and neither does Beau.”
Gavin giggled again and the sound tugged a smile over my aching cheeks.
My body was exhausted. I could barely keep my eyes open.
Thankfully, the sun was setting. Which meant after a quick dinner all of us could pile into bed.
I had a feeling Gavin would want to sleep with Beau for a while.
He always did that whenever we moved to a new place.
I hated that he had moved so much in his lifetime.
Twice while I was still in medical school and again once I took this job in Redding.
Part of me didn’t want to raise him in the hometown I grew up in, but another part of me knew he needed a stable life.
Which meant me sticking around for a long time.
We walked Beau down to a dog park and let him off his leash.
I sat on a bench and watched Gavin run around with him, rolling around in the grass as I cringed.
For all I knew, he’d roll right over a patch of poop and keep on trucking.
Which meant laundry and baths before bedtime.
I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes, taking in all of the familiar smells around us.
And the memories that flooded my mind brought tears to my eyes.
My father used to take me to this dog park all the time.
Especially after Mom died. She got sick with the flu one year when I was fourteen, and then pneumonia set in quickly after.
From the time she was admitted to the hospital until the time she died had only been a week, and I never got to say goodbye.
My father picked me up early from school that day with tears running down his face.
It was part of the reason why I wanted to become a doctor at one point.
I knew my mother had died in the hands of negligent doctors.
They wanted to medicate her and drug her, then leave her alone for hours on end without anyone checking in on her.
And I wanted to do something about that.
About the broken system that had killed my mother.
But it wasn’t until I started going through my residency program that I understood the true reason behind why my mother died.
There was a man who came in with almost the exact same symptoms. A positive diagnosis for the flu as well as fluid buildup around his lungs.
And the doctors administered the same thing: drugs for the flu symptoms and antibiotics for the fluid buildup.
But this man had a rough pair of kidneys.
He had issues filtering the drugs, which meant they had to back off on the dosage.
Just like they had to do for my mother. They gave him space to rest and recuperate, just like they had to do for my mother.
But they couldn't up the dosage of his drugs to get him the help he needed, and the rest he required didn’t work.
I watched him die that night during my residency, and I said to him what I wished I could’ve said to my mother.
I learned that night that not everything was as it seemed.
That sometimes, all doctors can do is make someone comfortable and hope their body does what they can’t.
My mother had lived a hard life. Battled addictions with pills and alcohol until she met my father.
That takes a toll on someone’s organs. On someone’s kidneys.
And while all of the memories I had of my mother were positive and good, she wasn’t without her faults.
The doctors hadn’t killed her that day.
Her lifestyle had.
“Mommy! Look!”
I shook my head and looked across the dog park and watched as Gavin played on the doggie toys.
He held his arms out and walked along the beam, trying to keep his balance as he went from one end to the other.
The smile on his face brought a warmth to my heart, but I knew we would have to be getting home soon.
It was getting dark, and soon the only thing that would be lighting our path were the lightning bugs of the town.
And I didn’t have my taser on me in case something happened while we were out.
“Come on, kiddo! Come here, Beau! Time to go back!”
“Awww, but Mom-”
“No ‘but’s. You need a shower and we all need dinner,” I said.
I clapped my hands and Beau came running.
Gavin stalked up with the leash and we hooked Beau up before we all started back.
I held my son’s hand as I looked down at him, watching how defeated he looked.
I hated it when he pouted. It killed me inside.
But the darkness was growing thick and we still had four blocks to walk back home.
Then, an all-too-familiar sound revved in the distance, perking up my ears and stopping me in my tracks.
“What’s that sound, Mommy?” Gavin asked.
The dull roar thundered throughout the small town as visions of Rock on his motorcycle came racing back.
“It’s a motorcycle,” I said.
“Those big kid bikes?” Gavin asked.
“Yes, sweet boy. Those big kid bikes.”
“Could I get one someday?”
I snickered and shook my head as I breathed in deeply through my nose. Of course, he would ask that question.
He was turning into his father more and more each day.
“When you’re older, we can talk about it. How does that sound?” I asked.
“Yeah! Mine’s gonna be black with green and yellow and red on it.”
“Green and yellow and red?” I asked. “That’s a lot of color.”
“Those are my favorite colors. It’s what I’m painting my room.”
“Oh, you’re painting your room now. When were you going to fill me in on this?”
“I just did,” he said with a smile.
The sentiment stopped me in my tracks. As the sounds of the motorcycles grew and the ground rumbled beneath our feet, my jaw hit the floor. And that sweet little memory came rushing back to my mind.
“Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you,” Rock said.
“Where are we going?” I asked through my giggles. “I’ve got stuff I have to do.”
“You can do it tomorrow,” he said. “Come on. Get behind me.”
“What if I want to be in front?”
“You know what happens when you sit on my lap, sweet girl,” he said.
“What if that’s what I want?” I asked as I slipped into his lap.
Rock revved his engine as he sped off down the road, forcing me to grip tightly onto him.
“I’ve got a place for us to spend the weekend out in the desert. Just you, me, the stars, and this beautiful body of yours,” he said.
“And when were you going to inform me that I would be gone for the weekend?” I asked.
“I just did.”
“Mommy?” Gavin asked.
I gripped his hand and walked faster as the sounds of the motorcycles became deafening.
I shuffled them into the house as the lights turned down our road, and I locked the front door before I peered out my window.
Gavin watched with me with wide eyes and a jaw that dropped to the floor.
I studied the men riding by as more memories assaulted my mind.
Was it possible for English phrases to be a trait passed down to children?
Or was Gavin really that much like his father?